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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25429714">Learning To Let Go</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProtonBeam/pseuds/ProtonBeam'>ProtonBeam</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Ben Solo Lives, But really it's not open ended at all, Canon Compliant, F/M, Falling In Love, I refuse to believe Ben Solo is dead, One Shot, POV Kylo Ren, Post-Canon, Post-Canon Fix-It, So here's a one-shot from his perspective, TROS Spoiler (duh), Wordcount: 5.000, letting go</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 06:14:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,000</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25429714</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProtonBeam/pseuds/ProtonBeam</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>7 times he lets her go. </p><p>The first time he let her go, it made him angry.</p><p>He didn’t even know why at the time, really. Just that this scavenging desert scum bested him in battle and carved up his face. This, this … nobody from nowhere whose force abilities had just sprouted. Newborn. Blind and fragile and wobbly but pure.</p><p>Every time thereafter he learns something new. Something about himself and his relationship with <i>her</i>. He's always letting her go. Watching her leave without turning back. Except when he's finally let her go for the last time, she won't return the favour.</p><p><b>Summary:</b> I'm feeling sad about TROS. Join me, maybe?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>84</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Learning To Let Go</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>
  
</p><p>Should I be working on my other stories? Yes. Was I having extra angsty Ben Solo feelings? Yes. So I wrote this instead. Don't hate me?</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> - 𝟙 -</p><p> </p><p>The first time he let her go, it made him angry.<br/><br/>He didn’t even know why at the time, really. Just that this scavenging desert scum bested him in battle and carved up his face. This, this … <em> nobody </em> from <em> nowhere </em> whose force abilities had just sprouted. Newborn. Blind and fragile and wobbly but <em> pure</em>.<br/><br/>He thinks it made him <em> angry </em> because he’d spent <em> years </em> training, <em> years </em> devoting himself to the light. To the dark. To any side of the force that would help him harness the power coursing through his veins. And along came the scavenger and just … could. It was <em> infuriating</em>. An emotion he knew how to wield well. An emotion he used to get himself to stand up and get off that imploding planet.<br/><br/>Later, in the MedBay he’d catch another wave of anger. One sparked by her rejection. <br/><br/>How could she <em> deny </em> his offer to teach her? What budding force user wouldn’t want a teacher like him? He’d be a great master having learned from two terrible but powerful ones. Ones whose teachings were steeped in their own shortcomings and twisted by their projections of who they thought he should <em> be</em>. He’d take both their flawed methods and forge a new style of teaching that would put the old ways to shame. One he’d pass on to her and together they could train new generations.<br/><br/>He’s strong. Understands the flow of the force intrinsically. He’s been learning how to wield it since he was in his mother's womb. The force has steeped three generations of his blood for kriff’s sake.<br/><br/>So being rejected was a slap in the face. And it angered him that it came from this … <em> no one.<br/><br/></em> So letting her go the first time wasn’t about letting go at all. It was more like watching the very pieces of his life he’d meticulously laid out shift with her awakening. A rearrangement of the galaxy to fit a newborn star system. There would be clashes, there would be loss, but the new system would find itself in balance with the rest of the galaxy. That’s just how the force works.<br/><br/>He didn’t know he was letting her go then. Not the first time.</p><p>
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</p><p>- 𝟚 -</p><p>
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</p><p>The second time he let her go, he’d felt the sting of rejection coil deep in his gut.<br/><br/>She’d tried to shoot him. Belittled him for killing Han Solo. Called him a monster. A murderous snake. A liar. And he’d been too dumbstruck to retaliate.<br/><br/>It wasn’t his fault, really. He’d been playing with scenarios, probing ideas and turning them over in his head on how to convince her to join his side every time the force connected them. It was always random, always when he’d least expect it. The way the force insisted on them talking at inopportune times was bordering on obscene and did nothing to better his chances. <br/><br/>Didn’t the force understand she hated him? Didn’t it understand he hadn’t fully fleshed out a plan on converting her? Why was it seeking to bridge them when they were both on shaky ground?<br/><br/>But little by little, with each connection he felt her pull. Like little marionette strings he didn’t know were wrapped around his heart. They’d tug and tug every connection until he started to understand the <em> why</em>.<br/><br/>Their existence was interwoven more deeply than he’d initially imagined. Snoke had justified her existence as the balance to his rise in the dark. But the more he spoke to her, barbed as their exchanges were, the more he understood she was as conflicted as he. That dark and light were constructs of a long gone era of force users. It wasn’t about light or dark, only how you chose to harness the force. Whether it be peace or chaos. Like all living beings, some thrive in different conditions. The force was no different.<br/><br/>He learned to relish their exchanges. Coming to them with boyish curiosity, though she insisted on keeping hers venomous at best. Shutting down his line of questioning, forcing him to answer queries she should already know the answers to. He’d even come to cherish rankling her. Began looking forward to throwing her a curveball and watching her pretty scavenger face contorted with confusion. Watch her anger and disdain for him morph into a sliver of understanding even when she refused to voice it.<br/><br/>Until their 4th time, that is. When she let him in. When she dropped the walls she’d constructed around herself to let her weakness peek through. And that tugged at his heart the hardest. Her soft eyes and her tears. Her tender but open heart.<br/><br/>The heartbreaking loneliness she carried with her sparked something within himself. He wouldn’t question it. Not then, anyway. But he recognized it. This need to belong when no one wanted you.<br/><br/>So he told her she wasn’t alone.<br/><br/>And she’d told him that he wasn’t either.<br/><br/>Their exchange of support was the spark he needed to shift his focus and start drafting <em> other </em> plans. Ones that included a future with her by his side. Ones that saw them killing their past for good.<br/><br/>So why, then, did she refuse him? Why did she choose his uncle’s saber over his hand? Why did she make him let her go?<br/><br/>He’d killed his master for her. Killed his guards. Opened the door to a future where they - the strongest force users in the galaxy - could rule as one and forge a new path. He hadn’t known it then, but what he’d offered wasn’t just the galaxy, that was just the Solo side of him mucking things up and poor word choice. He’d proposed himself. Why was she rejecting him?<br/><br/>Sure, in retrospect his verbiage was poorly chosen. The result of being a Solo male (heritage be damned), the pressure of a golden opportunity, and the simmering heat of battle. Perhaps he was a little overzealous and tripped over his words a bit too, but that was neither here nor there.<br/><br/>The marionette lines around his heart pulled in all directions. Rejection coiling deep in his veins as he felt her slip through his fingers..<br/><br/>Was he the one who pushed a vicious wave of the force at the saber to destroy it? Was he the one to overstimulate the crystal to stop their battle of wills?<br/><br/>He’d like to say he was pushing for the win. That it was simply a battle of wills and he intent on rising champion.<br/><br/>Now he knows, though. Knows he was trying to destroy the thing between them. To erase any differentiators so she could take her place by his side. To clear the dejarik board so she had no obstacles on her path to where she belonged.<br/><br/>At his side.<br/><br/>He’d known she’d walk away before the crystal even sparked. So as rejection coiled and the wave of the force claimed his consciousness, he knew he was letting her go yet again.</p><p>
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</p><p>The third time he let her go, he felt himself slip into denial.<br/><br/>He had seen a future, when they’d touched hands. One he thought he’d been so sure of on their way to his former master. But he’d been wrong, he’d been terribly, horribly wrong. Instead, he watched her choose her precious resistance over him. That pathetic, decimated, rag-tag handful of breathing souls his mother nurtured. Even after he’d let her go only hours ago. After giving up <em> everything </em> for her. He’d had to go and do it all over again.<br/><br/>When he’d come-to in the throne room he’d long stopped trying to deny what he felt. Those weren’t marionette strings around his heart. They were the very threads of fabric she was made of. The very essence of her force sewing itself into the flesh of his heart and encasing it.<br/><br/>The irony of it all was that it hadn’t been new. If he really considers it, now, he knows they’d been there all along. Almost as long as he can remember. A phantom appendage within himself with her very signature on it. He’d just never been able to place it. To name it. <br/><br/>Now he can.<br/><br/>He watched her carry and aid injured resistance members onto that blasted ship. Watched her coo and smile at them. Hug and rejoice at their existence. Then … he watched her choose to walk away. Again.<br/><br/>Why did he feel this way? Why did he still feel this inhuman pull to her when she chooses everyone else over him, time and time again? Why was he <em> allowing </em> this ungrateful <em> scavenger </em> to affect him? Why did her pressing the ramp release squeeze something inside his chest and start a dull, relentless ache?<br/><br/>His first reaction hadn’t even been anger then. Though that came again shortly after.<br/><br/>What he’d felt was … <em> hurt</em>. It was hurt. Hurt because he was beginning to understand he <em> loved </em> her. Hurt because she didn’t return the feeling. <br/><br/>And <em> that </em> was unacceptable. So he dug in his heels and clenched his fists and grit his teeth and denied it. <br/><br/>No. He didn’t <em> love </em> the scavenger. The only emotion for her he had was fury. Raw, unhinged, fury. And what accompanied it was conviction.<br/><br/>He’s <em> going </em> to become the Supreme Leader. He’s <em> going </em> to clear the galaxy of any threat to his title. Any threat to his power. And then she’ll <em> see </em> . Then she’ll <em> crawl </em> back. Then he’ll make her pay for the feelings she’s poured into his chest and encapsulated there without his knowledge. The ones tearing him apart. The ones she forced him to live with.<br/><br/>The third time he let her go, he wasn’t in denial of his feelings. That’s impossible. Kylo Ren knows himself. Knows his feelings. He doesn’t love her. That’s preposterous. He <em> loathes </em> her. <br/><br/>What he was in denial of, was her feelings. Convinced she’d see things his way.<br/><br/>Eventually.</p><p>
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</p><p>The fourth time he let her go, he felt hope bubble in his chest.<br/><br/>He’d hunted down the last remnants of the past in the galaxy and was on the verge of becoming the single strongest force user. In the process he’d learned that that phantom appendage he’d lived with had, in fact, always <em> been </em> her. <br/><br/>They were a dyad. Two that are one. Two halves of a whole. A shared soul as gifted by the force. Together they would be stronger. How could she not see that?<br/><br/>He’d pushed her, then. In the desert of Pasaana. Pushed her to the very brink of her powers until her bloodline shone. Was it selfish? Of course. Maker knows he’d done it to force her to finally accept who she is. Who <em> they </em> are. He’d been desperate to feel any reciprocation from her end of the bond.<br/><br/>Instead he felt her determination to dig in her heels and keep away from him. He felt her build up her walls even higher. Ignore his insistent battering when he’d try to open the bond. Force knows he tried time and time again, testing the connection. Feeling it alive and well but <em> closed.<br/><br/></em> So when he finally saw her again, he pushed her until her bloodline did what it was always meant to do - destroy. He watched with pride as doubt began to swirl around her signature. It was astonishing to see her come unhinged. To watch the darkness inside her unleashed. <br/><br/>He hadn’t sensed Sidious’ lie, but the Sith were in a league of their own and their word meant little more than another grain of sand on Tatooine or Jakku. He <em> could </em> have lied. He didn’t.<br/><br/>Pushing her to the realization, to the <em> revelation, </em> had been transcendent. He’d never felt a greater sense of accomplishment in his life.<br/><br/>But he’d also felt her terror.<br/><br/>The truth too stark for her to come to grips with. Too contrary to the little narrative she’d built for herself. Woven tightly with threads of his mother, his uncle, the resistance. She’d lived her life <em> believing </em> her family would return even if she’d <em> known </em> they wouldn’t. Now, knowing darkness was in her nature startled her.<br/><br/>So he’d let her go yet again. This time with renewed hope singing in his veins.<br/><br/>It was a triumph, of sorts. Watching this expression from the side of herself she kept buried. Watching the darkness take root. The one that was as much in her nature as in his very own. <br/><br/>He’d let her board that derelict ship hoping (nay, <em> knowing</em>) that she would turn soon.</p><p>
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</p><p>The fifth time he let her go, he felt sorrow.<br/><br/>A deep seated, unrequited sorrow.<br/><br/>It had been when they circled each other in the hangar of the Steadfast. A dance he’d become all too familiar with. Began looking forward to, even.<br/><br/>Every dance they performed became a moment to relish. To feel their waves of power circle and entwine. Light and dark, dark and light. Forever a push and pull that was as intoxicating as his father’s whiskey.<br/><br/>He’d told her <em> everything </em> then. Confirmed her parentage. Confirmed their dyad. And he’d seen it. That glimmer of acceptance. That tightrope walk she teetered on everytime they were in close proximity. Just a hair’s breadth away from taking his hand and fulfilling their destiny.<br/><br/>He’d felt it, then. Her acceptance. Seen it in her mind, their future stretching out like tendrils of the force in her signature. The two of them side by side, the galaxy bowing to their wills. And yet she defied him yet again.<br/><br/>He’d bared his face to her. Exposed his vulnerability to her. Showed his face so she could lay the argument that a creature in a mask was hunting her to rest. <br/><br/>Because he was. He’d always been. Vulnerable to her.<br/><br/>Whatever battles raged on in the galaxy, whatever pull whether light or dark, they were two halves of a whole <em> destined </em> to become one. Why was that so hard for her to accept? Why was she <em> still </em> denying that part of herself?<br/><br/>And just when he’d thought she’d finally turn, she turned her back to him instead and left.<br/><br/>He could have given the order and had his troopers shoot her. Shoot that blasted piece of junk. Shoot the things that made him <em> ache</em>. <br/><br/>But he didn’t.<br/><br/>He let her go.<br/><br/>He’d chased her through the galaxy, would keep chasing her through the galaxy because that was his destiny. Whether she likes it or not, they belong together. If only she could <em> see </em> that. If only she could return what he felt. Even just a sliver. Even just an <em> ounce </em> of caring.<br/><br/>Why did he have to so wholly belong to someone who didn’t want him? Why was his slot in life to be forever rejected? By his parents. By his family. By his peers. By his dyad?<br/><br/>He let her go and let himself slip into sorrow.</p><p>
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</p><p>- 𝟞 -</p><p>
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</p><p>The sixth time he let her go, he went through metamorphosis.<br/><br/>It was a reversion, though he didn’t know it at the time. A shedding of his skin to become himself again.<br/><br/>He’d tried everything. <em> Everything </em> to make her see things his way. He’d hunted her down to some forsaken moon. Hunted her down onto the wreckage of that blasted death star that had been the inspiration for Starkiller. Confronted her when she’d finally, <em> finally </em> accepted the Palpatine within herself.<br/><br/>When she let anger get the best of her, he fueled it. Because it was the most surefire way she’d finally be by his side. The most surefire way she’d <em> finally </em> return his love for her. Because that’s what it was. At some point after he’d let her go the fifth time he’d just accepted it for what it was. Love.<br/><br/>Twisted and dark, possessive and wrought with anger, but unmistakable. He loved her. The sad pathetic fool with too much of his father’s heart continued to hunt down the object of his desire, in spite of being rejected time and time again.<br/><br/>And this time she was on the brink of surrender. Her saber sliced the air around him with primal rage. <em> Their </em> sabers crossed and sparked. Clashed hot against the cold water battering their bodies.<br/><br/>He’d been so close, then. <em> So </em> close to finally breaking through her defenses and letting her be swallowed by darkness. Meticulously wielding his honed strength to wear her down until her parries grew sloppy. Until her muscles gave out. Until he was one blow away from destroying her.<br/><br/>Only he hadn’t planned on it. He’d only planned on wearing her out enough to finally <em> talk</em>. To have worn her out enough so they could connect again like they had so long ago when they’d touched hands and their future unfurled.<br/><br/>And then … his mother called. <br/><br/>It had always been like her to turn his agenda on its head. To throw a hydrospanner into his plans. Just when he’d felt strongest, she’d sent love and forgiveness across the galaxy. Blasting through the fissures in his already tattered Kylo Ren. Light seeping in and blinding him from the inside. The skin he’d wrapped himself in stunned, temporarily rendering him useless with her insistent message.<br/><br/>And she … <em> she </em> … she grasped the opportunity and stabbed him.<br/><br/>He’d felt all the emotions rush through him then. From anger to rejection, denial to hope, then finally sorrow. Because she’d chosen to walk away, yet again. She’d chosen to kill him with his own weapon. The one he’d forged with his own blood and feelings of inadequacy. <br/><br/>He’d accepted that <em> that </em> was his slot in life. Rejected by his family. Rejected by his heritage. Rejected by his dyad. <br/><br/>It was what he deserved, he supposed. Always unwanted. Death at her hands was in short … fitting.<br/><br/>He’d come to accept that he wasn’t wanted. And yet he’d held out hope that she did. She’d even told him as much during that fated force bond. The one where she’d told him he wasn’t alone. <br/><br/>Right there, on the wreckage of the Death Star, he <em> was </em> alone. Pierced through with his own weapon, the object of his affection - the other half of his soul - mortally wounding him. His mother’s passing like a bitter pill fizzing on his tongue. He <em> was </em> alone. All the hope he’d fostered for her, for Rey, was one sided.<br/><br/>Then … she reached out. She’d performed some miraculous feat that none of his teachings, none of his readings, had ever taught him. She’d poured her life force into him and healed his wounds. Not just the fresh one she’d inflicted, but old ones too. The scar she’d given him so many cycles ago. Inadvertently, even if she didn’t know it, she’d also healed his tattered soul.<br/><br/>He’d chalked it up to guilt. Because she too had felt his mother’s passing. His mother reaching out for him with her last shred of hope. And killing him would have been a slap in her master’s face. So out of guilt she poured herself into him not knowing just how much he’d needed it.<br/><br/>Her strength. Her vigour. Her essence. It was the balm that soothed his soul.<br/><br/>He’d convinced himself of that. That she’d saved him out of guilt.<br/><br/>This time, when he let her go, it was to revert to himself. The self he’d buried long ago.<br/><br/>The self whose hand she <em> wanted </em> to take.</p><p>
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</p><p>The last time he lets her go, it’s acceptance.<br/><br/>He’d accepted his past. Accepted that he was irrevocably in love with her. Accepted that he belonged at <em> her </em> side in whatever form she’d let him. So he chased her down and followed her transmission to Exogol one final time. <br/><br/>Because he had to, for her. He had to help her overcome the darkness in her blood just like she’d helped him overcome his. <br/><br/>He didn’t think it through. Hurled himself towards her force signature. Giant stride by giant stride he ran towards where her light shone brightest. Fought his former knights with barely a shred of guilt for taking their lives.<br/><br/>And when he stood by her side, when they faced Sidious <em> together, </em> he’d never felt stronger. How could he have known that all his training, all his lessons, all his control would be nothing compared to feeling the completion of having her at his side? He’d felt invincible. <br/><br/>Together. For the galaxy.<br/><br/>Then Sidious drained them of their strength and cast him into the abyss. Because it had been too good to be true. Solos and Skywalker’s aren’t known for good luck. In fact, it’s quite the opposite. Their lineage is steeped in tragedy.<br/><br/>Ben is no stranger to pain. He’d felt it all his life. Whether the mental anguish and torment the voices in his head, or the torturous training of Snoke. Pain was good. Pain was power. Yet as darkness closed in on him, he felt no pain. Only focusing on his single point of light - Rey.<br/><br/>When he finally landed on a jagged outcrop, when pain finally roared through his body like a crashing tidal wave, when broken ribs screamed and his twisted ankle throbbed, the only thing he felt was <em> her. </em>  <br/><br/><em> Her </em> force signature flicker. <em> Her </em> power brighten. <em> Her </em> strength multiplied with the force of all the Jedi. <em> Her </em> signature begin to fade away.<br/><br/>He feels her slip away. Feels the ripple in the force when the dark side begins to fray and crumble. <em> Feels </em> it shatter into a million pieces. It’s single source destroyed by <em> her.<br/><br/></em> Fear, it turns out, is a much better teacher than pain. <br/><br/>Cold dread seeped through his body and dulled the pain from his injuries. The fear of losing her giving him the strength he needed to pull himself out. To climb out of the depths of the chasm and crawl to her lifeless body. Fear turning icy in his veins, tinged with panic.<br/><br/>The only beacon of light in his life lies lifeless in his arms. Her body heavy and sagging, eyes unfocused and dull. Her mouth parted in death. There is no heartbeat. No gentle puff of warm air. No flicker of recognition when he pulls her eyes to meet his.<br/><br/>The weight of her body, the weight of impending loss so heavy in his arms, he barely has time to consider.<br/><br/>He <em> needs </em> to save her.<br/><br/>This time he won’t let her go. Unlike the other times she isn’t leaving by choice, so he isn’t letting her go by choice either.<br/><br/>He feels her very soul slip between his fingers and it <em> hurts</em>. This pain, a thousand times worse than any physical injury.<br/><br/>Ben’s battled countless times. In his darker moments pain was a tool for harnessing more power. This time pain is the tool for harnessing strength to save what he loves. To not let her go while she slips into never ending darkness.<br/><br/>Returning to his Jedi roots, he closes his eyes, places his hand on her abdomen and begins to channel peace. Begins to draw force energy from life itself. <em> His </em> life. Pouring it into her lifeless body. Nudging her signature with what’s left of his.<br/><br/>That’s what love is, he realizes. It’s not possessive. It’s not defined by who stands at your side or who will battle with you. It’s not choosing sides. It’s caring so much about another living being that you’re willing to give up everything. Even if they don’t reciprocate.<br/><br/>He knows she doesn’t love him. And that’s okay. It had always been one sided. He had, somehow, always known he loved her. Even when he thought he hated her. He had chased her through the galaxy, under guise of anger, rejection, denial, hope and even sadness. But what he’d really done all along was follow the path he was always meant to take. <br/><br/>He was always meant to save her. Always meant to lay his life for hers. That’s his destiny. His fate. <br/><br/>At least, she can go on, now. She’ll go on to become the last Jedi. The strongest force user in the galaxy and she’ll carry a piece of him with her even if she doesn’t know it. Deep down he’ll always be with her. A little phantom appendage he’s placed there next to her heart. One she doesn’t know nor care about. One he’ll keep alive with his love. <br/><br/>One that will house everything he’s felt for her. Will house their connection. In there, he’ll live on in his selfish way. Carve himself into her body the way she’s carved into his heart.<br/><br/>He’ll keep her heart beating. Keep her fire alive. Fuel her strength in the force and guide her wordlessly from afar. <br/><br/>She’ll never know he’s there, but that’s alright. Because he loves her, and loving her has always meant letting her go.<br/><br/>He’ll let her go one more time, then. But this time it’ll be with a small piece of himself. He’ll give her everything. And when she walks away from him, it’ll be for the last time.</p><p>
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</p><p>Her kiss was all the gratitude he’d needed. It was brief but at least he got to show her the fruits of her labour. The person he’d become <em> because </em> of her. And maybe now she’ll carry him with her happily.<br/><br/>When he closes his eyes, he wants for nothing. Finally at peace.<br/><br/>He’s floating in darkness and it feels right.<br/><br/>Sounds are dampened as the darkness brushes past him. Surrounds him, pulling him deeper and deeper. Like the force only less insistent. Like the blanket his mother used to swaddle him in when he’d begun forming memories. She’d comfort his wailing when dark intrusive thoughts would make him uneasy. Wrapping him up and pulling him close. It’s a soft cocoon to burrow into. Except he’s not burrowing. He’s letting in encase him. Envelope him in its soothing darkness and carry him away to a place where rest can claim him.<br/><br/>This is good. This is right.<br/><br/>He did the right thing.<br/><br/>He saved the one he loved.<br/><br/>That’s letting go. He <em> finally </em> let her go and now he can rest. Become one with the force and let his signature blend with those who came before him. Continue on in the galaxy and maybe even her heart, <em> maybe</em>.<br/><br/>In the never ending darkness, soothed by the heaviness it blankets him with, he can finally find peace. Though, now that he thinks about it - why <em> is </em> he thinking?<br/><br/>He thinks there are things he wished he’d experienced, now that he’s not bogged down by voices or duty. Things like kissing. Sure, she’d kissed him in gratitude when he’d exchanged his life force for hers. But he’d like <em> more</em>. Kisses that come from a place of love. Little daily pecks. Deep and loving ones. He’d like to have known what it was like to be with a woman. No, specifically <em> one </em> woman. He’d like to know what it was like to watch her belly grow. To have children of his own. <br/><br/>Would he be a failure like his father? Or would he be the doting, loving type? <br/><br/>He’d like to have known what it would be like to have someone long term. To grow old and grey together. What it would be like to wake up to the same face every morning and go to sleep to the same face every night. To watch wrinkles form and deepen with time. Lines created by happiness and laughter. <br/><br/>He’d like to know what it would be like to have <em> lived. </em> To have lived without the pressures of his lineage, the pressure of accomplishing tasks pressed upon him by countless masters and insistent voices. What it would be like to spend just a single day basking in the sun worry free.<br/><br/>He’d take her swimming, he thinks. In a calm lake or a softly lapping ocean under the sun. Green forests only feet away because she likes that colour. She likes green. <br/><br/>The dampened sound of a dulcet voice punches through the cocoon insistently. A point of light cutting through the thick darkness shrouding him and through his closed eyelids.<br/><br/>“I’m <em> not </em> letting you go. Not now that I’ve found you.”<br/><br/>Small, nimble fingers that hold the strength of galaxies wrap around his wrist. Squeeze in a way that’s both reassuring and uncomfortable. Disturbing the peace of the cocoon.<br/><br/><em> Let me go, </em> he thinks. <em> Let me have this one thing. I’ve lived a life of wrongs. This is my one right. Let me </em> have <em> this.<br/><br/></em> The hand clings tighter, is joined by another. Then pulls.<br/><br/><em> You’re not leaving me, Ben. Not again.<br/><br/></em> A voice. <em> Her </em> voice pulsates through the darkness. Insistently cutting through the fog clinging to him.<br/><br/>That’s a nice dream. A nice thought to drift off to. The fact that she might love him the way he’d loved her. That she’s not ready to let him go. In life, he would have given up <em> a lot </em> for this fantasy. But he knows that’s just what it is. Lets the darkness do what it pleases with him, including offer this sliver of hope. Serving his last moments of consciousness a beautiful alternative.<br/><br/>There’s a tug. Persistent and tinged with desperation. Sadness and anger. A little denial and a lot of hope. It feels like he’s being pulled out of the depths of an ocean. Fished out of deep water with a lure made up of all the things he’d felt when he’d let her go. 7 strings of longing, each coated in the hopes of <em> one day. </em> The cocoon begins stripping away, then. Blinding light like the very centre of a supernova engulfs him. Warm, inviting. <em> Whole.<br/><br/></em> At first the light is fragmented, as though it's filtered through a fractured mirror. The cocoon hard as rock and unyielding. The scent of ocean water and damp cave assaulting his senses.<br/><br/>When he opens his eyes against the brightness all he sees is hazel. The very same hazel that's haunted him.</p><p> </p><p>It turns out, he’d learned to let go, but she is just starting to learn what love is.</p><p>
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